Jigoku
by drealyn22
Summary: Short Mugen character study. One shot. Much angst, somewhat dark. Rated T for mild language. (Cover image: "Jigoku")


**A/N:** _Jigoku_ was the first Mugen fic I wrote. I started writing this dark and angry version of Mugen, and then I set it aside and started putting some of the ideas into _No Roads Where We're Going_ and _Perspective Evolution_. I recently rediscovered the original, touched it up, and decided to post it.

If you've read my other two stories, you'll probably notice some common themes here, since this was the progenitor.

 _Rated T for mild language._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Samurai Champloo!_

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 **Jigoku**

He was a feral animal and a savage criminal who relied on no one. Honor was pointless, trust was a liability, and attachments were shackles. He lived only to fight and kill for his own survival and freedom. Bloodlust and anger were the oxygen that fueled the blazing inferno raging inside him, casting ghostly shadows that danced within his broken soul.

Mugen was the personification of malice and treachery. His very presence evoked panic and dread in anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path. The smoldering intensity of his glare seared a hole in everything it touched. The indelible cobalt rings around his wrists and ankles, the unrecognizable foreign sword on his back, and the innumerable scars carved into his weathered, bronze skin exposed his deep history of murderous violence for all the world to see; he displayed them proudly. It gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He _enjoyed_ terrorizing people. He _enjoyed_ watching them scatter like dead leaves swept up in a whirlwind. He savored it like the last morsel of an exquisite meal.

The waitress should've been scared shitless the very first time her curious eyes connected with the firestorm in his. Instead she showed him innocent trust and honesty without a hint of apprehension, even when he murdered a man right in front of her just for entertainment, just because he _could_. How was it not clear to her that he was a viscous threat with an ingrained evil streak who placed little, if any value on human life? How did she not see that he lacked any sort of moral code? Some might even call him a sociopath, a man without a conscience who operated far outside the norms of acceptable social behavior. Mugen just simply didn't give a fuck about anyone but himself. Screw everybody else.

Was she stupid? Why would anybody save someone like him from execution? He earned it many times over. Redemption was out of the question, and he wouldn't bother seeking it even if he thought he deserved it. He knew better. When he finally goes down, he's going straight to the fiery depths of hell. He looked forward to it every day. It was the most fitting end for a man who doled out death like food for the needy, or medicine for the sick.

But she did it. The damn girl got him out, and he was released from the consequences of his crimes for the umpteenth time in his young life. He wanted to believe that her intervention wasn't necessary, but there was no denying that she played a crucial role in his liberation. He could not have escaped from the governor's hounds without her well-timed distraction.

In exchange, she forced him to make a promise. Nobody _forced_ Mugen into _anything_ , least of all an agreement that required him to keep his word. Yet somehow the scrawny bitch got away with it. She gained control over him with the simplicity of a coin toss. It was a fifty-fifty chance, and Mugen was the loser. Now she commanded him like a trained lapdog on a short, gold-studded leash with a choke chain coiled around his neck.

 _Walk._

 _Sit._

 _Stay._

 _Shit._

 _Stop barking._

 _Stop fighting with that other dog._

 _You're going to do what I say._

 _I said_ walk _, dammit._

She can pretend that she's tamed him, but a snarling predator can only remain caged for so long before it breaks free of its restraints and absconds into the stygian shroud of night.

No more trust. No more attachments. No more shackles.

Only a human manifestation of molten brutality, running wild and rabid, searching for a worthy opponent to quench his ruthless thirst for heart pounding, blood-tainted adrenaline, _or_ deliver him into the flaming abyss of Jigoku, to be incinerated alongside the ancestors who abandoned him for all time.

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 **Additional Author's Notes: What is Jigoku?**

Those who have died and are deemed unworthy of rebirth in the five upper Buddhist realms find themselves in the worst afterlife of all: Jigoku, or Buddhist hell. There are "eight great hells" in Jigoku, also known as the eight hot hells. Each level is more severe in its punishments than the level before it. The deepest and most horrific of these is called Mugen Jigoku (無間地獄), the hell of uninterrupted suffering. The souls there are so hungry and thirsty that they tear apart their own bodies and drink their own blood in a useless attempt to ease their suffering.

Please note that "mugen" (無間) in this case is not the same word as Mugen's name (無幻). They are homophones; different words pronounced the same way.

~ Mugen (無間) in this context translates loosely to "uninterrupted" or "constant."  
~ Mugen's name (無幻) means "no illusions."  
~ A third homophone, mugen (無限), means "limitless" or "infinite."

For more in-depth information about Jigoku, check out my Tumblr page - drealyn22 (#Jigoku, #NoRoadsWhereWe'reGoing).

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 **Thanks for reading. Please review!**


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